


Tongue-Tied

by KrokoRobin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I enjoy playing around with power dynamics way too much, Lingerie, M/M, irresponsible relationships, slight Duncan / Zevran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 08:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4912813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrokoRobin/pseuds/KrokoRobin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair and Duncan meet under circumstances that are somewhat less than perfect.<br/>Now if only they weren't both too proud to admit their mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tongue-Tied

When Alistair first saw Duncan, it was a few minutes past midnight. The club was chock-full and the crowd was just getting started, all while Alistair already felt a tad drowsy. Must’ve been the drinks that Zevran kept pushing on him.

That’s when he spotted him, prowling around the dance floor with his head raised proudly, like a seasoned predator on the look for his prey. He couldn’t be younger than forty. His hair, already interwoven with grey streaks, was held in a tight knot at the back of his head, and his beard neatly trimmed. Alistair noticed too late that he’d been staring, right as he locked gazes with those dark, intent eyes. It was impossible to make out in the darkness of the room, but Alistair could’ve sworn he saw a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of the lips of the older man.

 A distinct feeling of thrill struck Alistair, like he should run, but he was frozen to the spot, like a deer in the head light.

 Alistair did not remember Duncan bothering with introductions. Yet for some reason, he was absolutely sure that it had been his name he had been breathing into the cold air in the back yard behind the club. On the other hand, his memory of the night was rather unreliable. He wasn’t even sure whether it was still night or already in the morning. His mind kept slipping away. All he remembered were warm, calloused hands against his back, urging him into the embrace of the other man, his own hoarse voice hanging in the air, visible like heavy fume, the insides of his thighs tingling pleasantly and the urge to open them even further to the administration of whatever Duncan had to offer.

 It was not like Alistair had never had sex, but it had mostly been with boys and girls of his own age. They all had been more or less just as clueless as him when it came to making out. Sure, it had been fun. But it was only now that Alistair realised how different Duncan was. He carried himself with a whole different level of confidence. He knew exactly what he was doing, how tightly to hold onto Alistair’s wrists, how hard to bite down on the skin of his neck, and what words to groan into Alistair’s ear that would make him shiver all over.

 When they parted, they did with a kiss so soft, Alistair almost felt his knees give in again.

 

* * *

 

The second time that Alistair saw Duncan, they did not talk much. From the moment Duncan opened the apartment door until the moment when Alistair had his ankles locked behind the small of Duncan’s back and was begging through mere moans, there was nothing to be said.

 Duncan got up early and said: “I have to go to work. Take anything you find in the fridge that tickles your fancy. When you leave, just pull the door shut.”

 And just like that, he was gone.

 

* * *

 

 Not before the fifth time they saw each other could Alistair work up the courage to ask him why he always left like this.

 “Does it bother you?”, Duncan asked.

 “Well, you know…”, Alistair began, and as Duncan did not seem to understand what he was trying to say, he stuttered. “I-I just thought… if we’re boyfriends… Why are you laughing?”

 “This is not what this is, Alistair”, Duncan said and ruffled his hair.

 “Oh”, made Alistair and felt rather dumb.

 Now, Duncan seemed disconcerted. He furrowed his brows and pulled his hand out of Alistairs grasp. “You don’t expect a relationship out of this, do you?”

 “What? No, no!”, Alistair assured, took Duncan’s hand back in his and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry, I got this.”

 

* * *

 

 They never talked.

 Every now and then, Duncan would send him a message and Alistair would come. He dreaded and anticipated the vibrating of his phone. Sometimes, when he was bored and alone, he sent messages as well, with way too many little heart symbols in them. He just couldn’t help himself. Biting his nails, he waited for his phone to light up in the middle of the night.

 Sometimes Duncan would answer, always curt, but nice.

 “I know this is none of my business, but… are you entirely sure you aren’t expecting anything out of this?”, Zevran said, after Alistair had come to him for advice.

 “I don’t know!”, Alistair exclaimed and threw himself into the pillows on Zevran’s couch. “But if I told him…”

 The more messages he would write to Duncan, the less he felt Duncan answered them.

 They never talked.

 

* * *

 

 When Alistair saw Duncan for the fifteenth time, Duncan had his fingers buried in the bunched up hair of Zevran, shoving him up the wall of the club outside like a doll. Neither of the men noticed him, both too busy moaning into the mouth of the respective other.

 Alistair felt himself swallow. A cold tingling made his hair stand on end, ran through his body, his arms, into his fingertips. Which he dug into the palms of his hands.

 “It wasn’t serious, Alistair!”, Zevran yelled from the other side of his room door, about two hours later. His speech was slurred. “It was just…” He interrupted himself. “Shit, if I had known that…” The rest was nothing but unintelligible mumbling. Zevran left a few minutes later.

 Alistair stayed in for days. When one evening he found himself in front of Duncan’s apartment, he had no idea how he’d gotten there. In hindsight, he also had no idea where all the tears had come from.

 Duncan was polite. Almost nice. He even offered him a ride as he sent Alistair home. Alistair told him to go fuck himself.

 

* * *

 

 Years passed before Alistair saw Duncan again.

 One thing Alistair had to admit: He had learned something from this. He saw it now. He didn’t have to care. Never again. And why should he? It was just taxing, all this longing and hoping and waiting.

 Duncan had left him exhausted, every single time. Not because he had wanted to! But because Alistair had let Duncan have so much of him. Because he’d thought if he just gave Duncan enough of him, Duncan wouldn’t be able to turn him down.

 Oh, Duncan wouldn’t be able to turn him down, Alistair thought.

 Alistair prowled the dance floor like a young predator, strong and ready to strike at any time. One day, he locked eyes with Duncan again. He made his way through the crowd and grabbed Duncan by the hips.

 For the shortest moment, there was reservation in the way Duncan looked at him. Yet all hesitation melted once Alistair’s hands had moved up his back to his shoulders and pulled him so close there wasn’t even enough air for breathing.

 

* * *

 

 The seventeenth time that Alistair saw Duncan, he would never forget. The sight of Duncan on his knees, crawling towards him, his eyes glazed over with sheer want for what Alistair offered, and how his dark lashes were wet with tears when Alistair would not allow him to stop, all these things burned themselves into the back of Alistair’s eyeballs as if with a branding iron.

 Next morning, Alistair got up, gave Duncan a peck on the cheek and left.

* * *

 

 Alistair opened the door for Duncan and saw him for the eighteenth time. The constant composure of the older man was on the verge of slipping, as Alistair noticed with satisfaction.

 “Do you like it?”, Alistair asked innocuously. “They’ve just gotten in and I thought I might try them. Not sure they fit me though.” He ran his hands up the side of his thigh, turning to one side and the other, closely watching how Duncan’s eyes followed the garter belt and fishnets that were very visible beneath the short skirt he was wearing. “What do you think?” Alistair was well aware how transparent he was being right now, but that was part of the beauty of it all.

 Duncan only made a rumbling noise as a response.

 “You go ahead and make yourself at home, I’m gonna get us something to drink”, Alistair said and waved him inside before closing the door.

 Duncan settled down in the living room.

 As Alistair bent over to set down the drinks, he peeked over his shoulder to see whether Duncan was looking.

 Oh, and he was looking alright.

 Alistair got up and turned towards him. Duncan already reached out for him, but Alistair slapped his hand away. “Na-a-a-a!”, he chided with a smile. “Where are your manners?”

 “I’m just wondering, what will it take…?”, Duncan murmured.

 “What will what take?”

 “For you to let me have my way with you.”

 Alistair laughed. “Oh, right! That!”, he said and bent over to cup the sides of Duncan’s face, one thumb resting on his lips. “I’m afraid you would have to be very, very nice.”

 

* * *

 

 One day, Zevran saw Duncan instead.

 He opened the apartment door, and at the sight of Duncan, his face immediately darkened. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”

 “I was just wondering whether Alistair might be…”

 “Oh, no no no”, Zevran cut in. “You’re just out to break his heart again. And guess what? This time, I’m not going to help you with that.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head back to stare defiantly at Duncan.

 “It’s alright, Zevran. I’m sure it was nothing like that”, Duncan chuckled.

 “Come on, Duncan. You can’t tell me you are this dense”, Zevran sighed and let his arms fall to his sides, just to rest his hands on his hips two seconds later, which gave him staggering resemblance with a highly upset bird. “He just moped around for days, maybe even weeks. But sure, play your games with him. But I will have no part in it.”

 Duncan tilted his head with the slightest frown. “He’s a grownup man. And you know how it works with me. I told him, too.”

 “Sure, whatever you say.”

 No, Duncan told himself as he made for the stairs, we both know that it’s not like that.

* * *

 

  Alistair had just seen Duncan for the twenty-second time. They were at Duncan’s place again. Alistair shifted, nudging his head against Duncan’s naked shoulder. The warm skin begged to be nuzzled. There, right at the nape of his neck, his scent was the most intense. It smelled nice, of spices, and Duncan, and sex.

 “Tired, huh?”, Duncan murmured, his own voice rumbling with languidness.

 “After what you just did to me? How could I not be”, Alistair chuckled and absentmindedly combed the fingers of one hand through the dark hair on Duncan’s chest. “I’m gonna stay here tonight, if you don’t mind.”

 The beat of Duncan’s heart was drumming in Alistair’s ear. He counted ten heartbeats, then he raised his head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”, he asked with eyebrows raised curiously.

 Duncan didn’t answer. He only smiled and grazed Alistair’s cheek with the back of his hand. Alistair knew that smile.

 “Are you in looove with me?”, Alistair said in a childish, teasing tone.

 Still no answer. Instead, Duncan inclined his head and gave Alistair a tender, long kiss. His lips were still swollen where Alistair had bitten them earlier.

 “You wouldn’t be, would you…?”, Alistair whispered into the kiss, unable to stifle a grin. “Duncan, you dog…”

 

* * *

 

 The time before the last that Alistair saw Duncan was some night Alistair couldn’t remember. Duncan texted him almost every day now. The time had come to spring the trap.

 And how beautifully it had all worked out. Holding someone at arm’s length is quite easy when you don’t have to feel sympathy for the other side.

 Or so Alistair told himself. Unfortunately, it turned out not to be that easy at all.

* * *

 

 The last time Alistair saw Duncan, he was standing in the hallway, right in front of Alistair’s doorstep, one hand extended to the bell button, his shirt drenched in water. His hair was disheveled and he wasn’t even wearing a jacket.

 "I was just about to leave”, Alistair stated.

 “I see”, Duncan answered. He stepped aside to let Alistair through. Down in the parking lot he caught up with him. The rain was coming down so hard, Alistair almost didn’t hear Duncan as he yelled: “At least let me drive you!”

 They didn’t speak a word, the whole drive through. At least something hadn’t changed, Alistair mused. He could feel the other shifting in the driver seat, but he stood silent. Even when Alistair stepped out of the car and Duncan handed him his backpack, he just stared at Alistair as if…

 “I’m sorry.”

 Alistair hesitated. He was already facing the airport, afraid that if he turned around to look back on Duncan, he’d turn into a pillar of salt.

 Duncan repeated the words. His voice was lower this time, forlorn. “It is my fault it all went like this”, he added. “I didn’t know. It’s all my fault, and I’m sorry.”

 Still unsure whether he was dreaming or not, Alistair shook his head. His heart had suddenly skipped a painful beat and was now feeling as if it was filled with lead. He had waited for this, aimed for this. He had wanted to strip Duncan off his pride. He had wanted to hear nothing more than Duncan begging for him to stay. But now that he had achieved his goals, it all felt hollow. He felt hollow.

 Moments passed, the rain crept through Alistair’s clothes and made him shiver. “That’s it?”, he asked. “That’s all you have to say?”

 A heavy sigh behind him made him clench his fists.

 “We could try over. If you want”, Duncan said.

 Something like a laugh escaped Alistair’s throat. After all this time, here they were. He didn’t just have Duncan on his knees in a literal, but also in a figurative sense, and that was the crux. But Duncan wasn’t entirely right. Alistair had been the first one not to listen. He had been the first one not to heed Duncan’s warning. In his mind, Alistair saw himself leave without another word.

 “We could have been good, don’t you think?” Alistair wasn’t really sure it was him who had said it before Duncan answered:

 “Yes.”

 The backpack had started slipping off his sloped shoulders and Alistair had to push it up again. He was freezing, but he didn’t want to get inside the terminal. He also didn’t want to get back into Duncan’s car.

 Finally, Alistair turned around. If he looked half as miserable as he felt, it would have explained the worried expression on Duncan’s face. “Fine, I’ll go home”, he all but snapped and headed for the train station.

 “But…”

 “I’ll get back home on my own!”, Alistair yelled as he turned around to stare back at Duncan. At the sight of his utterly unguarded, pleading face, all of Alistair’s rage started to collapse on itself and threatened to bury him underneath, pressing the air out of his lungs. “Please”, he said quickly, as his voice hadn’t yet failed him and he could still muster up some anger. “Just… I can’t do this right now, please!”

 Duncan had taken a step towards him, but stopped in his tracks. “Right…”, he said. He cast down his gaze as he nodded awkwardly and said: “Take care.”

 

 It hadn’t been the last time that Alistair had seen Duncan after all.

 

* * *

 

 

 When Alistair first saw Duncan, it was a sunny day in the park. The trees were rustling in a light spring breeze. A bunch of children were skating past them, down the road.

 They were standing in front of each other, Duncan with his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, and Alistair holding his bicycle between them.

 “So, what do you wanna do?”, Alistair asked, aware that he sounded a bit brusque.

 “Why don’t we just talk a bit?”, Duncan said.

 The warm wind was whispering through the leaves over their heads and a few bright rays of sunshine danced over Duncan’s smiling face.

 Alistair returned his smile and started walking. “Yeah. I would like that a lot.”


End file.
